Stranger In The Night 20

I had the most surreal experience that night... The full moon was sinking towards the horizon, I knew because an ominous ghostly glow peered through the window creating unwholesome shadows that began their slow journey across the room.

I cannot recall if I was beneath the sheets when in the dead of night, I felt the touch of bony fingers running up the insides of my legs. A breath-like cold chill accompanied the sensation, not unlike the breeze from an opened window. It cooled my skin but also it penetrated deeper.

To this point, the night had been still and sultry. The cooling I welcomed as it travelled up between my thighs. I felt my legs begin to splay, not by me, it was as if hands were between them, spreading them apart. After a short pause, I felt another sensation, an icy grip cupped my balls. I liked the sensation as the piercing coolness travelled through to my core.

My mind began to ramble. Suddenly I was hard, the hardest I had ever felt. I could feel my foreskin being pulled back, at first, I did not sense any touch, but then, the icy grip wrapped around my shaft and it did for me. The door to ecstasy was ajar and I was standing right at the threshold.

It must be her. It must be Charlotte!

Pause! Let me explain properly...

I was staying at a bed and breakfast for a few weeks. My flatmate and I had been temporally evicted after our landlord informed us it was necessary to carry out some major roof repairs. Being that we were on the top floor he said it wouldn't be safe for us to stay there. Luckily, I happened to be chatting to an old school mate, Charlotte. Her mother ran a bed and breakfast, on the edge of town. A real old place, with low beamed ceilings, dark dingy corridors and floorboards that seemed to creak just by looking at them.

Don't get me wrong, it was a lovely old place, I'm sure many would describe it as having rustic charm. The important thing was, it was somewhere safe and warm to stay while the repairs were being carried out at ours. Also, I had no intentions of going home to my parent's house, not now I had tasted independence.

Charlotte and I were not close at school, in fact, we only became friends after we both had left school, first meeting by chance at our local watering hole. I liked Charlotte, she bubbled with personality and had an infectious laugh. She may have only been petite in build, but what she had was most endearing.

Charlotte's big brown eyes coupled with her smile turned many heads for a second glance, although I believe she was oblivious to the magnetism she had over others, and not just men.

Charlotte would always go the extra mile to help a friend, needless-to-say she managed to bag me a great deal. She said I could to stay in the family part of the house, and not in a room reserved for the bed and breakfast guests.

Then, our friendship was purely platonic, as we were both in other relationships. If our timings had been different, then who knows. I'm only flesh and blood and sometimes my eyes would track her peachy arse as she tottered over to the bar to get the drinks in.

She made me smile as she stood there, on tiptoe, trying to gain a few inches and so attract the attention of the bar staff.

The day I arrived at the bed and breakfast, Charlotte came into the room clutching a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"This is to toast your stay," she smiled, standing the glasses on the bedside table and filling them almost to the brim.

"Cheer's." We chatted for a good while before she announced,

"I have a little problem I need to tell you about, as you are staying here... Sometimes I walk in my sleep!" I laughed,

"And that's a problem because?"

Charlotte continued.

"Quite often I end up here, in this room. This used to be my Nana's room before she died." Charlotte read the expression on my face and giggled. "Don't worry, she didn't die here, or in this bed. No, sadly, she passed away in hospital, about a year ago now. But before she died, she lived here, with us. Some nights I used to sit here and read to her. Mum said it was because I was so close to her, that's why I would end up here. I just thought you should know, but hopefully, it won't happen."

"Hopefully, it will," I joked.

Charlotte gave me a smutty grin.

"Only, in your dreams!"

So... I had convinced myself Charlotte was toying with my cock. Her touch was amazing, experienced beyond her years, firm but gentle, she knew exactly the way a gentleman like to be handled. But, fuck she had cold hands. I had awoken now, in more ways than one. I so wanted to open my eyes, to see her nakedness. Instead, I imagined returning the affection she was giving me by touching and masturbating her clitoris and then diving my fingers into her wet pussy hole. I thought If I opened my eyes it might break the spell. She might wake up from her sleepwalk and it would all be over, I kept them shut tight and remained motionless for as long as I could.

This fantasy, surreal experience, was quickly gearing towards its climax. I now felt the sensation of her lips slide over my knob and down my shaft. I felt my knob press against the inside of her cheek. Slowly she withdrew and then went down again, taking my aching cock deeper inside her mouth. With each time, I could feel my cock penetrate deeper into her throat. I felt the wetness of her saliva as it trickled down my shaft and over my balls. The next time my cock entered she took me all the way until her lips were kissing the base of my shaft.

But gag she did not, it was as if she had no reflex, or, she loved giving head so much that she had learnt to control such reaction. Over and over she withdrew her lips, right to the tip of my knob, then plunge back down the length of my sticky shaft.

I couldn't withhold it any longer. I just had to touch her. I clasped my hands around her head and gently I aided her oral offering. Every time, just before she plunged, I held her head while she explored my smooth swollen knob with her tongue. After she supped on my erotic state, I arched my hips and drove her mouth down my shaft.

I felt her lips slide on every inch of my erection. To delay my orgasm now would have been impossible. I jerked my hips each time she took me inside. My cock started to throb as the pressure swelled my erection still further. My balls tighten as she grasped them, squeezed them, encouraging me to release my cream inside her mouth.

I was desperately trying to delay from cuming, but her mastery was milking me to that final moment. I felt the whole length of my cock engorge and pulsate as I squirted my hot cream into her mouth. I shuddered with delight, clenching her head until my throbbing had waned, and I had fully sobered from my euphoric state.

I laid there for a few moments savouring the afterglow. No longer could I detect the pulse in my cock as it began to deflate. Suddenly I was aware of the silence, the air became warmer. I felt alone. The touch and the sense of someone else's presents had gone. Startled, I open my eyes. The room was empty, she was gone. I sat up and scanned the room in case Charlotte was playing a prank.

Only the eerie shadows were my company. The bedroom door was closed, its unmistakable creaky hinges had not moved. In a moment of disbelief, I caught a smell of stale air, like mothballs mixed with a tinge of woman's perfume. I ran to the door and opened it, to peer outside, sure enough, it creaked, but the corridor was in darkness. When I returned to my bed, my sheets were wet with my cream and my chest too bore the evidence of a happy ending.

After many sleepless hours deliberating, I had to finally conclude that it had just been a dream. A nice one, mind. The wet patch on my sheets serving as, a reminder every time I turned.

The moon had completed its journey across the heavens before I finally drifted off into an uneasy slumber, and with it came a reoccurring vision. I was reliving my glorious blowjob, only this time I saw the head of a woman bob up and down on my cock. Her short curly hair appeared silvery, illuminated by the moon. When the woman lifted herself from me, I saw her face, she was old, gaunt and pale. I saw too she had only one breast, for although she was wearing an old fashioned, nighty, it was parted at the front.

Her single breast was wrinkled and sagging to her tummy while the other side of her chest bore the rawness of a healing scare. That vision taunted me, even after the sun had risen and troubling thoughts are usually banished or at least viewed more rationally.

Maybe it was just as the saying goes: Strange things happen when there's a full moon.

End.